


Destiny’s voice

by Piripulix300



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cursed Jaskier | Dandelion, Destiny, Destiny's not happy, Friendship, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Jaskier says 'F U' to destiny, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Mute Jaskier | Dandelion, Mute!Jaskier, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sad Jaskier | Dandelion, Sad with a Happy Ending, Screw Destiny, cursed!Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24429031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piripulix300/pseuds/Piripulix300
Summary: Jaskier didn’t expect to find himself in trouble as soon as he left Geralt on that damned mountain. Yet, trouble found him, and now he must deal with the fact that he is cursed to muteness unless he starts travelling with Geralt again. And after what the witcher told him, it is not something he is looking forward to.OrJaskier is cursed to be mute after an encounter with Destiny. He comes across many problems before his witcher finds him again, and he still has a lot of things to talk about with Geralt before finding his voice again.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Original Character(s), Jaskier | Dandelion & Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 229





	1. There’s a beautiful woman in the woods

Jaskier was a bit lost. Everything has gone wrong in a matter of seconds and he had not been ready for it.

That morning, Jaskier awoke alone and forgotten. The camp was already devoid of any life when he got up and straightened his doublet. He spent a long time trying to find the trail that the others had taken. Thinking about it, the fact that no one had bothered to wake him up was not surprising. It was clear that the dwarfs would try to play them, greedy as they were, although for some reason it seemed like they had been stuck behind just like him. However, he had expected Geralt to wake him up. That was something that the witcher had started to do recently, and with the nice conversation they had the evening before, sleeping late was not something he has been ready for. In the beginning, if Geralt had a creature to kill in the morning, he would let Jaskier sleep in for the sake of safety. By the time the bard woke up, the hunt would usually be over. Recently, however, it seemed like Geralt has decided that he was worthy of taking care of himself, and he was always awakened for hunts.

Today, no one woke him up, he was left without any kind of explanation, and Geralt had yelled at him.

 _Yell_ was a poor word for what had happened. It was more like Geralt had finally exploded after enduring Jaskier’s permanent presence at his side. All his pent-up frustration had been released at the same time. Honestly, Jaskier could take critics. Had the witcher say “leave me alone for a while, I have had enough of your worthless presence. You only bring attract problems”, Jaskier would have grumbled about it but he would have parted way until the coast was clear. He understood. Really. But there was nothing he could do about “If life would give me one blessing, it would be to take _you_ off my hands.” Of course, things couldn’t go well. _Of course_. He should have seen this one coming too. What other reason would they have to “forget” him at camp?

Jaskier did not stop at the camp to rest. He gathered his possessions and went on his way without looking back. He was above angry, he was furious. He was fuming. He would have taken on anything that would have cross his pass. Rabbit, sorceress, gryphon, vampire, even Geralt himself had he dared to try to catch up with him. His wrath pushed him forward and the journey down the mountain felt like nothing compared to the commotion of words and emotions that was happening in his head. He could feel that his pace was much faster going down than coming up, but there was nothing he could do against it. He mind was too wrapped up in his problems to notice that his feet and his breath were starting to ache.

By the time night came, he was more than halfway down the mountain already. His fury hasn’t subsided, and his feet were still stomping the ground at each step. He has stopped repeating a chorus of insults over and over again in favour of trying to analyze all his conversations with Geralt, to see if he could turn his sorrow into a song. Although his honour as a musician forbids him to kill the reputation that he had taken so long to build.

When night came, Jaskier started paying more attention to his surroundings. He was trying to find a good place to put up camp when he stumbled upon a small waterfall. He approached the pond carefully intending to stop and gather water.

Right when he opened his gourd, a sort of pale light surrounded the water. Jaskier backed away but he was stopped by the vision of a woman appearing above the water. She was like a goddess sent for him. Throughout all the years he had travelled with the witcher, he never saw nor heard anything about ghost-like woman materializing above water. It didn’t seem like she was either a siren or a drowner, considering that she had done nothing but stare at him for the last minutes, instead of attacking him as any good creature would.

So Jaskier mustered all the courage he had and raised his wobbly voice:

“Who are you?”

The woman looked at him some more, then bent her head the other way. She was stunning to look at. If she hadn’t appeared out of anywhere in the middle of the forest after a particularly hard morning, the bard would have courted her for sure.

“I am your destiny.”

“My destiny? What, are you not everyone’s destiny? Or do I get a personal adviser? Something that corresponds to my need? Because I have to say, you have a very lovely...”

“Jaskier.”

She did not look angry at the bard, but the smile plastered on her face wasn’t warm either. Jaskier wasn’t at ease. And when he was stressed, he tended to speak too much.

“Jaskier,” she said, “I am Destiny. And I come bearing predictions about your future.”

Jaskier didn’t know if he was allowed to ask questions or not. He decided he would wait until knowing what the prediction was. Destiny, like the goddess she was, stepped down on earth in front of him, untouched by the water and radiant like a small sun. She took his hand in hers in a comforting gesture. Jaskier felt somehow both soothed and threatened by the action.

“You are destined to a great future, bard, but for this future to take hold, you have to follow the White Wolf of Rivia once more.”

“WHAT?”

Even Destiny seemed unsettled at bard’s answer.

“Ah, nononono my lady.” Jaskier kept rambling. “I am _not_ going back with this dalcop man. I’ve _just_ got rid of him and I don’t want, for _anything_ in the world, go back to 20 years of grunts and disdain. And I’m quite sure he doesn’t want that either. So, sorry, but no.”

Destiny had the decency to look taken aback. Jaskier gulped for air, not believing that he could have said that at a goddess’ face. Even if she was lying and wasn’t destiny, she was still powerful enough to levitate above water, something that Jaskier could not do. In was not in a good position to negotiate.

“No...?” She repeated, dumbfounded.

But Jaskier was already too far gone, and he was not even _considering_ the option. Would he go back to Geralt, the witcher would kill him before he had the chance to explain himself.

“No. We are done. I am _not_ going back.”

“... NO?”

Jaskier suddenly realized that Destiny looked furious. The hands that were holding his were warming dangerously. Her eyes were of a strange colouration, and her hair had started to hover around her. He considered lying his way back. It had saved him in the past and it would save him again since the witcher wasn’t here to cut everything that threatened him anymore. He truly hoped Destiny would spare him, but it looked like everything was against him today.

“Well, wait a moment. You don’t have to be... so decisive my lady. I mean, Destiny. I can... I _will_ find an arrangement. That is definitely in my realm of possibilities. I was thinking about…”

But Destiny wasn’t taking it. She still looked as crazy as Yennefer on a bad hair day. The fact that she hadn’t gone back to be a beautiful mystery was bothering him. He considered the fact that he may have fucked up.

“Julian,” she said, “you _will_ go back to the witcher, would you want it or not, as such is your destiny.”

Jaskier began feeling strange, but it was impossible to know if it was fear or magic that was chaining him. His body was not answering completely. He felt like he was underwater, unable to yell or to call for help, and unable to run away. Although even if he could, it was certain that Destiny could catch him easily. Her feet left the ground and she started levitating again.

“ _Thou will obey, and thou will learn_

_That Destiny is but a choice_

_Follow the witcher, that you must_

_At the expanse of your own voice_ ”

Jaskier finally found his voice, but he could only croak a small “What?” before the strange feeling took over him again, and he was forced to back away. He knew that at this point, there was nothing he could do to save himself anymore.

“Bard, you will find your witcher again, for the sentence that will curse you will be far worse if you stay away from him.”

She paused. Her slight levitation was slowly taking her to the pond again.

“I curse you to walk this earth unheard until you accept your destiny and stand by the witcher’s side once more.”

“Cursed? No, wait, please!”

But then, something lodged itself in his chest, and Jaskier choked on his breath. For a second, he couldn’t breathe, and his mind called for Geralt with violence but, as abruptly as it came, the deep weight vanished and he could breathe again. The experience left him empty and shaking.

“Go find the witcher, bard,” said the apparition, “and the curse will be broken.”

In an instant, Destiny disappeared. Jaskier stayed there, alone in the middle of the woods. Even the small pond that he had stumbled upon seemed to choke and die as the water subdued to a trickle of water. He backed away. The place was too eerily silent for his liking.

Jaskier wanted to call after her, to try and get more explanations, but even if his mouth was open, the bard could not utter a single word. He raised his hand to his throat and tried speaking again, only to end up with the same result. He could breathe just fine, but any kind of sound he tried to make would end up as a blank silence.

He was panicking now. He could still feel his vocal cords moving with the words he was trying to say, but only silence answered.

He had lost his voice. Destiny had made him mute.

He was in no physical pain. The curse was magical only. He recalled the words that the strange women had said. _Destiny, that Destiny had said_. It was about not having a choice and about being mute for as long as he wouldn’t go back on the road with Geralt.

And here was the problem. Jaskier knew that someday, inevitably, he would forgive the witcher. He was not the kind to hold grudges. They tended to hurt his soul more than the fight itself would. He could make peace with Geralt. Not today, but he could. Going back on the road with him? _Never_. How could he go back on the roads with him again? The witcher has made very clear why it wasn’t even an option, and Jaskier could not find it in his heart and mind to inflict his incompetence to the witcher again.

Despite his anger, Geralt was right. Jaskier was useless during monster hunts. He was a safety hazard. Because of his lack of skills, he was dangerous to travel with and he was a liability for others too. He tended to make the situation turn from bad to worse just by being there. Jaskier wouldn’t have himself as a road companion, so why would a witcher do?

And so, it was decided. He would get back on the roads by himself until he found a cure. _If_ he could find one. And if he couldn’t, well... he had a last resort, although he preferred not to think about it right now.

Jaskier picked up his lute and left. His mind far away, torturing him with unrealistic possibilities and ridiculous solutions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dalcop man = a dull-head


	2. Firm beliefs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier struggles with the fact that he is mute now, and he comes to some decisions regarding his llfe.

_You can not rush greatness_.

That was Jaskier’s philosophy. That was what he believed in when his songs didn’t immediately come up, or when one of Geralt’s hunting track turned out to lead nowhere.

You can not rush greatness, nor fame, nor kindness, nor destiny. This was why Jaskier _firmly_ believed that it was _not_ Destiny that had cursed him. It would imply a change in her plans because even though Jaskier was now mute, he hadn’t gone back crawling to the witcher’s side like the curse said he should.

At first, he was repulsed by the fact that he had no choice but to beg for money. Sometimes, when he was lucky, he could get a one-day job and he would spend all his hard earnings at a sorceress or any kind of mage he could find to try to have the curse lifted. He never got lucky.

They all had the same kind of excuse. “This curse is too strong for me”... “You must have angered someone very powerful”... “I can’t help you.” He was getting tired of their speech but he had no other choice than to keep on visiting mages after mages until his situation became so well-known that the word started circulating between them and they knew about him as soon as he entered their shop. This only brought more problems since most of them wouldn’t _try_ anymore, using random excuses like “I don’t have enough herbs” or “I am too busy this week”. But he knew. He could see that resignation was set in their mind.

It took him an eternity to accept the fact that no one could help him. Maybe Yennefer would be powerful enough, but he didn’t want to have to explain himself to _her_ out of all people.

It happened that one day, he met a sorceress that seemed powerful enough to lift the curse. She accepted to help him and spent the evening preparing. He saw her grind herbs together and draw incantations on the ground. She told him that the result was not certain, but he was ready to accept anything that might have even a slight possibility to work.

The pain had been horrible, but comforting. Pain meant that it had to work, right? Pain was good. Because it meant changes and rewards. But no. The solution didn’t work, and Jaskier was left hurting above being left disillusioned once again.

After this, Jaskier had little hope that anything would work. Still, he did everything he could to prevent him from having to go back there, but in the end, he never had a choice. After a particularly harsh week, he found himself without a crown in his pocket and no matter what he did, he could not get any money at all. Now, Jaskier wasn’t the kind to steal, but this week had been so hard that he had considered the option multiple times. 

This is when his story went from bad to worse, and when he decided that he couldn’t live on the streets anymore. He looked more and more like a seventy years old ragged homeless and he was sure that if he kept on living in the streets, he would die of hunger or from the cold. Winter was settling in and he could not keep up.

One evening, in order to get some food, he _actually_ had to - _just thinking about it made his heart clench_ \- he had to sell his lute. His baby, gone in the oily hands of a stranger. The elven lute that he had cared for all his life… Gone. Of course, Jaskier got a very interesting price for it, but still. With his lute gone, it felt like a piece of his soul had finally cracked, and that his destiny had been decided for him. It was at this moment that he understood that clinging to the hopes of staying a bard while he was mute was stupid and dangerous. It was the milestone that got him to use his last resort plan. 

His choice was either to become someone’s servant and die in the next three year due to mistreat and abuse… or to go back home, to the Pankratz family, and hope that they still wanted him. 

It wasn’t time to fool around anymore, it was time to go home. 

This is how he found himself at the gates of the Pankratz mansion, with tattered clothes due to the long travel and a hungry ache in his stomach. Looking like a swamp hobo, he wasn’t expecting the royal welcome. Especially since it had been more than 20 years since he had last given his family news about his whereabouts. They probably thought of him dead. 

When he approached the gate a little closer, the guards stepped in front of him.

“Who are you?” Said the one on the left. “State your business now.”

Jaskier went to retrieve his notebook in his pocket, which made the guards tense. Thankfully, they were not stupid enough to arrest him in the spot. 

He wrote “ _I need to see Viscount Pankratz. My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz._ ”

Both guards tried reading on his notebook but after a moment, they were just looking at him with suspicion. 

“You…?” The first guard started saying, but he didn't have time to finish before the second guard grabbed Jaskier by the collar. 

“Who the hell do you think you are? Are you trying to trick us into thinking you can write? You think you're funny, heh?”

Jaskier wasn't afraid. There was nothing this man could do to hurt him. Well… there was _a lot_ that he could do, but nothing that Jaskier cared enough to be afraid of losing. He turned the pages to the first one where a prewritten “ _I'm mute_ ” was waiting for the guard. 

The man released him and turned to his companion. 

“This is out of our league,” said the other man without missing a beat. He had watched Jaskier being manhandled without feeling the need to stop them but now he seemed less at ease. “Can you read what he says? We should bring him to the Viscount.”

 _Ah, fatal error_. Jaskier had hoped that his father’s guards knew how to read, but it appears that they were too stupid to help him. Although the situation seemed to be going his way anyway.

“Bring a beggar directly to the Viscount? Are you short of a marble? Our job is to stop solicitors, not invite them in.”

Would Jaskier be in full possessions of his abilities, he would have talked his way in like any other time. He would also _not be here_ in the first place. Right now he could only wait and hope that the second man's opinion weighted more heavily in the balance than what his submissive look suggested. This was not boding well for him after all.

“But what if it’s important? I think I recognize some curves, he truly knows how to write.”

“And what if he’s faking it? He probably saw some random writing somewhere and tried to reproduce it.”

He looked Jaskier over for a second and the ex-bard resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This explanation was a bit far-fetched. 

“I will not take the responsibility to bring some homeless wanderer to see Viscount Pankratz. And mute too.”

Jaskier knew the argument was lost when the guard protecting his cause nodded slowly, contemplating the other man’s point of view. He huffed. He had to make a detour then. 

“You heard that, beggar? Get lost. You are not needed here.”

_Pitiful guards. They didn't even check with someone who can read._

He didn't want to be shown the way out so he left on his own. He waited for the night to come before getting closer again. The door was still heavily guarded, but not the secret passage he had used as a kid to escape. Of course, the vegetation had grown back by now. Thorny bushes tore his clothes. Jaskier couldn’t care less. They couldn't be in a more pitiful state than they already were anyway.

He went to the castle, escaping lights and guards. It felt wrong, escaping at reverse. He had run away a long time ago, with just a lute in his hands and a head full of dream. At that time, he couldn’t care less about money or social status. And now, he was coming back crawling –quite literally– wounded and frightened like a wild animal. His head was full but his voice was gone, and his hands were empty, carving for the money and the wealth he had escaped a long time ago. The only thing he had managed to do on the roads was breaking his heart and his dreams.

How horrible the world was. 

He managed to sneak in his chamber without making a sound. Nothing had changed. His bedroom hadn’t changed, which was… awkward. It was bothering him more than he would admit. 

_What to do now? Should I go wake my parents or wait for the morning?_

He had not thought this part through. However, the choice was taken from him when he walked on a plank that creaked louder than the rest.

_Fuck!_

And fuck indeed, because someone had heard that. And that someone was coming right to him. He hid behind the wardrobe. He was too big to hide inside now. The footsteps came closer. They stopped in front of his door. The light illuminated the inside of the room through the slight opening of the door. 

_Please don't come in. Whoever you are. Don't come in._

“Is there someone there?” An uncertain voice rose from the entrance. 

_Ah, Christina! Sweet sweet Christina. She is still working here. Go away!_

This woman was the sweetest nanny a little boy could dream of. He would hate to scare her by appearing in the room of the lost child that she took care of years ago.

But the stars weren't with him that day, because she entered the room, intrigued by something.

“What happened here?”

_Shit, I left the window open!_

She came in and the wavering light revealing more and more of the room with each of her steps. Jaskier knew that he would have to run. She would discover him whatever happens. 

He bolted from his corner. Christina started screaming right away. He avoided her and went for the door. He was running as fast as he could through corridors, remembering with disturbing clarity the way to his parent's bedroom. He bumped into a guard at some point and pushed him away. The guard was not ready and tumbled down. 

When he arrived at his goal, the whole castle was awake. There were sounds of metal clanging and guards running everywhere. Jaskier didn't have a lot of time. They would come to protect the viscount first. 

He entered the room, which woke up his mother. The poor woman started screaming right away, backing out of the bed and on the floor. There was no light in the room, he could understand her fright. Having a beggar jumping like a devil in your bedroom would make anyone scream.

He went for his father, shook his shoulder furiously. The man woke up with difficulty. He took his notepad at the last page, the one that he had shown the guards earlier and that said “ _I need to see Viscount Pankratz. My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz._ ” He shoved it in his father's hands, hoping that he would read it, or at least wake up enough to see his face and…

“Hey!” 

Hands grabbed him. He was taken away easily. They kicked in his teeth and they punched him in the ribs. He was down in an instant. 

“What is the meaning of this?” His father asked. “Who is this man?”

“A burglar, Sir. He came in through your son's window.”

“My…?”

That seemed to wake him up, but the guards were already taking him away. 

_Read, dad! Please!_

But he was powerless as the guards closed in front of him, hiding his parents from his view. He was taken to the dungeon.


	3. Intrusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Jaskier talks to his parents and subsequently gets bored.

Contrary to what most people could think, his father had always been nicer to him than his mother. With time, he had come to accept that Lady Pankratz only wanted what was best for him, and he could understand her reluctance to his dreams of music and adventure. That didn’t change the fact that she had forced him to be something he wasn’t during all these horrible years. If there was a chance that someone would get the situation, it would be his father. 

“Worry not, Sir.” The guard said. “We will bring this man to the dungeon.”

Jaskier was ruthlessly grabbed and carried away. He resisted until a guard kicked him in the teeth. Then, everything became blurry. He had a vague knowledge of where he was and what was happening, but some part of him didn't have the energy to react. He could feel his legs trailing on the floor and he could hear crude voices arguing. 

_Ah, I am being... carried away. I missed... my chance_.

He closed his eyes for a second, heard a door being unlocked and he was suddenly launched across the room. He landed on a very hard part of the ground.

_Oh, wait. The whole ground is hard. My head hurts._

“And stay there, you scoundrel! If I see you running around the castle again you won't be as lucky.”

Jaskier opened his mouth in a silent protest and staggered to lift himself on his hands. His ribs were hurting and his face was a mess of pains. When he managed to sit down he poked at his face slowly to attest the damage. He would have a black eye for sure, and probably some cuts. His lips were fine but his mouth was sore. 

He was trying to look around see if there was a cup of water somewhere when he heard a lot of noise coming from the stairs. A few people were hurrying down to the dungeon. He hastily dragged himself further in his cell. He was not in the mood to get another beat down for nothing. There were too many voices speaking at once, but at some point, he heard the rude guard's voice rising above the others.

“There he is, Sir. Here is your thief.”

And then, a lot of people came in his visual field at once. First, two guards. One was looking back and one was looking straight at him. The second one was the same character that had hauled him down there. Then, his parents appeared. Both of them. His father was looking through each cell until he saw him. His mother was following him in her nightgown. She seemed tired and scared, but she stayed at her husband’s side. Then, two guards were following, closing the march. Jaskier suspected that it was a bit too much, but didn’t say anything. Not like he could anyway. Instead, he waited patiently for them to stop in front of his cell.

The guards parted and his father came to him first and _oh no. The message hadn’t gone through_. The Viscount was _definitely_ angry. He had the notebook in his hands and waved it aggressively in front of him.

“You, pesky little burglar. Where did you get that? Answer!”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. When nobody moved, he tried to get up to grab the notebook, but as soon as he was on his feet -and that the earth has stopped moving-, he saw that the guards had stepped between him and his father.

“What are you doing? Just answer the question!”

Jaskier raised his hands in a peaceful gesture and held one out for his father to give him the notebook. His father didn’t understand and withdrew behind his guards.

“You will not get this until you tell me what you want. I was told you try to come to see me this afternoon. And tonight, you broke in our mansion. Were you just trying to give me this notebook? You broke in, yet you didn’t try to kill us. Who sent you?”

Since he couldn’t have the notebook nor could answer the questions, Jaskier tried gesturing. This seemed to make his parents react favourably. He mimed the action of flipping the pages and raised a single finger. His mother understood and took the notebook to flip the pages. The guards, on the other hand, raised their swords.

“He’s a mage! Stay behind us, Sir.”

“No,” his mother said. “He’s not. He’s just mute.”

Jaskier sighed in relief. The swords were lowered.

He beckoned his mother to turn the pages again, which she did. He saw her read every page - _Uh, mom. Stop reading everything. Turn the pages already_ \- until she finally arrived at the last one, and gasped. She showed it to his father, which frowned.

“Julian? Is that really you?” She said.

She came closer and cupped his face in her hands. They were warm, which Jaskier was really grateful for considering how cold his cell was. He let himself be examined by her as she turned his head in all directions. Then, he rested his head on the prison bars with a soft thump. He was tired. It had been a long day.

“Oh, my little king. What did they do to you? Tell me, why are you back? Oh, right. You’re mute now. Give me the notebook husband, would you?”

She faced Viscount Pancratz, but was surprised at how cold he seemed. It looked like his father still had doubts about Jaskier’s identity.

“Are you here to mock us?” He said. “Julian would never come back. He went to be a bard and to have adventures. He is famous now. Don’t you think I know of his whereabouts?”

As much as the comment warmed his heart, Jaskier needed his father to believe him. He pointed to his throat and tried to make a sound but, as always, stayed silent. This wasn’t enough for his father. Jaskier frowned and tried to find another solution. His mother suddenly left his side to go whisper something in her husband’s ear. The man’s eyes widened and he looked back at Jaskier. He shivered under his gaze.

“Undress.”

Jaskier recoiled. _No way._ He took a step back and crossed his arms with a disgusted expression.

“Wait, not like that.” His mother said. “Just your top.”

Jaskier sighed and made up his mind. They must have their reason for not telling him the truth yet. He took off the torn clothes that he once called shirt and threw it on the side. With his bruises exposed, he felt dangerously small in front of the four guards. His father approached and passed his arm through the gate. He didn’t have to say a word for Jaskier to comply and move forward. His father gently took his arm and turned it. Then his expression changed. His mother softly gasped and covered her face with her hand.

“My love...”

Jaskier didn’t know if she was talking to him or his father, but when he saw the look on his father’s face he knew he wouldn’t stay in this dark cell for long. He looked down at his arm and saw what had captured his parent’s attention. There was a hidden birthmark inside of his elbow. Jaskier had never really cared about this mark, but he was glad that it was being useful now.

“Julian...” His father whispered. He turned to the guards. “Get him out of this cell, fast! Before you take his place.”

A guard opened his door with resignation. Jaskier got out immediately, with a satisfied smile that made the guard squint his eyes at him. His mother jumped at him and he shifted unsteadily. The pain in his ribs had flared up and made him dizzy for a second. Lady Pankratz didn’t seem to notice. She released him from her cobra-like embrace and took his hands into hers.

“My little king! Back at last! Oh, how _glad_ I am to see you!”

She hugged him again and this time he winced.

“Now, leave him would you?” His father said with authority. “He must be hurt and tired. Come, Julian. We are going back to your room.” He then turned to another guard to ask him to send the healer to his room, and they were gone.

The evening went quite fast after that. Jaskier was led from a room to the other. His mother has started rambling about some events that had happened during his absence, but as the day caught up with him, Jaskier started to feel tiredness settling in his bones. He must have dozed off during his session with the healer because he was awoken rather rudely by said healer asking him to stand up. He was quite grateful to be shaken awake because it meant that the healer had been gentle enough to let him sleep when he was working, and seeing that he was covered almost entirely in bandages, it must not have been a pleasant experience. He found himself being walked to his room, and after his head hit the pillow there was nothing but darkness.

Jaskier decided that waking up was not an experience humans should have. Especially not when they woke up hurt and injured. Yet that was what he found himself doing, in the same room, for the next months to come. Although less hurt than tired after some time.

The first morning, his parents wanted to know everything. He gave them the _very_ eluded version of his breakup and his reason for returning home. This meant lies and omissions. He didn’t want to link The White Wolf to him, so he told his parents that he had been wandering around as Dandelion, and that he was happy of what he had. The next month, they were hungry for details on his life. What he did, the songs he wrote and the people he met. Still, Jaskier lied. Of course, their opinion was different on what _good_ company meant, but Jaskier was perfectly capable of keeping his opinions for himself and giving his parents what they wanted. It was particularly easy since he couldn’t speak and blow his cover. They spend the rest of the year in a comfortable house life that, if Jaskier was honest with himself, he had rather _missed_ while he was on the roads. The hot baths and the fine clothing was a nice change of pace.

Yet, after a few months of this treatment, he found himself already longing for fresh air and a change of pace. The royal life never suited him. It was the reason why he left in the first place. He didn’t like that Christina had to bow to him and wasn’t allowed to speak to him. He would have loved to catch up with her, to ask her how her daughter was, or if his parents were treating her well. He needed more entertainment. The castle was silent and boring.

His mornings were spent in the living room with his parents. They generally received people who were asking them for help. His father was like a little king, analyzing them and deciding of their fate. That was how Jaskier knew that he would never be a great king. He would always give the money to everyone that came to visit. In the afternoons, he would be left alone, when his mother was not dragging him here and there to various lessons and shows. Jaskier learned how to escape without too long.

He spent his days here and there, mostly writing. Since he couldn’t sing, he had decided that he would write. Maybe some other new talent could pick up his songs and sing them for him. None of his parents asked about that, and he was more than happy to have something for himself.

He was used to be silent now, even if that still bothered him. He liked having fun, being loud, having all eyes on him and spending evenings complementing –and more- a multitude of women. Of course, being the son of a viscount, he could still have them all. It just... It wasn’t the same now. He couldn’t see the way they would redden or roll their eyes at him. They just came for the money, there was no point.

He missed singing... and Geralt.

Of course, life didn’t have any concept about irony and for once, it decided to give Jaskier what he was asking for.

It all came down a day that looked like the others. It always does.


	4. Find your voice in the strangest places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier's been at his parents for a while now, until an old friend comes.   
> Featuring Geralt, and a lot of mixed feelings.

A monster had been ravaging the crops recently. His parents had sent a note to hire a witcher and of course, no one told Jaskier. It would have seemed to be the most logical option, especially since he had spent half of his life at a witcher’s side. How he could be kept in the dark about those things was above him. So, this morning, he sat with his parents as usual, and they started chatting as usual. He paid no mind to them. He was daydreaming about his last song and trying to forget he would spend the rest of his life like this when a word caught his interest.

“I hope this witcher will be there soon. The monster ought to be taken care of as fast as possible.”

Jaskier whipped his head in his parent’s direction. _Did they really say what he thought they did?_

“Oh, Julian.” His father had picked up on his interest and was watching him now. “Did you hear about witchers while you were on the roads? They became very popular recently, and we have a problem to be taken care of by one of them.”

Jaskier felt panic rising in his chest, forcing him to stand straight. His father misunderstood his expression and thought it as a sign of interest.

“Yes, remember how we talked about this monster destroying our farms? Well, it was high time we took auction. I posted a reward for its head, and a witcher answered. He should arrive at any time now.”

_Fine. He was fine. His father had said “a witcher” and not “Geralt” or “The Butcher” or “The White Wolf”. It could be any witcher. Granted, he hadn’t seen a lot of them when he was on the roads. Plus, his parents didn’t know about him. They would never hire Geralt just to surprise him. They would never hide any info on the White Wolf if it was him, right? I mean... They would probably pummel him with the reasons why having powerful relations was important... Right?!_

At this moment, the door opened. A figure appeared. It was a witcher. Jaskier’s heart stopped.

_Or not._

A strange feeling of magic passing through him made him shiver. He was unable to tear his gaze away from the witcher that just entered. The man at the door has cut his hair and, if it is even possible, seemed gruffer than when Jaskier left him on that damn mountain. Yes, there was no mistaking it, it was Geralt in front of him. They looked at each other for a while. The tension between them was to cut with a knife.

Jaskier didn’t know if the witcher recognized him or not. At some point in his life, he was able to tell the difference between each of Geralt’s stares. Now though, he couldn’t say. His mind still has this made-up graph that can tell him if Geralt is annoyed, surprised or pleased, but Geralt’s moods also depend entirely on his affiliation with the person. And of course, their relationship is awkward at best, murderous at worse. It’s been a few years, and Jaskier doesn’t even know if Geralt recognised him. Maybe he was staring because he was annoyed by the stench of his fright. Jaskier knew he could smell stuff like that.

The worst, he could easily say, the absolute worst in this encounter, was that now that he was somehow over Geralt’s theatrical entrance, he could feel it. There was no denying it. His voice was back.

Why now? He had merely looked at Geralt, it was not like he had accepted to follow him again. What did the curse say? Something like “ _follow the witcher again_ ”? Had he misinterpreted it all along?

His father, oblivious of the whole situation, started speaking to the witcher.

“Ah! Sir witcher! Come, if you please. We were talking about you”

Geralt walked up to them. His eyes never left Jaskier. He remained stonily indifferent, which encouraged Jaskier to recompose himself and to straighten in his chair. Jaskier gulped once, making a small inconspicuous sound at the back of his throat that even the witcher couldn’t hear.

He had so many thoughts swirling in his head that he was surprised no one caught on what was happening. He was torn between the return of his voice and his old frie... acquaintance who was still watching him. Geralt approached until he faced his father.

_This is the worse_. _Stuck between my parents_ _and a witcher I hadn’t seen in years._

He knew he couldn’t randomly start screaming at Geralt because that was just _not_ possible. For some reason, his parents hadn’t recognized Geralt. Maybe they took less interest in his stories than what he gave them credit for.

“What does it looks like?” Geralt asked.

“The usual folklore. Tall, red skin. Veiny like an old prune. Big teeth. Blood-curdling scream. I don’t know if you’ll get much out of this, the farmers were pretty shaken by the countless death of their comrades. It is more than possible that they made up a lot to cover up for their ineffectiveness”

“Rmmm...”

There was silence. Then he father coughed conspicuously.

“Sir Witcher? Do you have more questions?”

“Hmmmm... Yes. Where did it... come from?”

Jaskier was not sure what to get out of their conversation. He had never seen the witcher so distracted before. He would have laughed at the situation if he hadn’t been so tensed by the return of his voice. Geralt was stammering like a witcher on his first hunt.

Jaskier struggled to keep in place. Now that he had his voice back he felt the tug of songs and adventures once more. Who cared about seeing Geralt again? He had his voice back! The witcher could behave as weirdly as he wanted, he couldn’t care less. He could... travel again! And... take up music again – _how he missed his dear lute_ \- and sing sappy love songs at the edge of the world if he wanted.

That... That would be fantastic. A life worth having.

He wasn’t even listening to the conversation anymore. He had vaguely heard the witcher detailing was he was going to do and his parents humming along. He was too focused on those feelings that were waking up and shaking his core. His fingers were numb and the room was starting to spin, as the reality of the facts settled in. He had lived for so long without sound that the realization of this miracle hadn’t hit him fully yet. But his voice was back, _it was really back_! There was something _finally right_ in his throat, the obstruction that he had grown accustomed to was missing. He felt lighter than a feather. Jaskier closed his eyes, effectively shielding the remnants of conversations from his senses.

He basked in this feeling for as long as he could. He didn’t dare to move. Just staying there and letting the feelings wash over him was enough. He was already dreaming of his life on the roads again, the girls, the fame... He would have to buy a new luth, though. No luth would compare to Filavandrel’s, but it would be enough for him. Being able to follow his will and sing all the songs he had created...

“Julian?”

He was awoken by a worried whisper and a shake of his shoulder. He turned around, only to see his mother with a concerned look on her face. Father and Geralt had stopped talking to look at them.

“Are you not feeling well?”

He realized he might have looked quite dumb with his eyes closed and his mind elsewhere. He took the opportunity that his mother gave him and shook his head ‘no’. Then, without waiting for her to say anything, he got up and made his way out of the room.

“Please excuse us.” Jaskier heard his father say. “Our son’s behavior was terribly rude. I think he never met one of yours before, and he must be pretty terrified.”

“Hmf.”

“Now, where were we? I believe we ought to talk about the reward.”

He could hear the conversation going on, but he couldn’t get himself to care. He had to get away for a while and be alone with himself.

What he didn’t feel before was the need to sing. It was slowly creeping up on him, putting a smile on his face as he whispered arpeggios to himself. He had closed his heart to music for far too long. There were melodies at the tip of his tongue that just _needed_ to get out.

As he walked through the corridors, he felt more and more confident, singing a note here and there. The smile was blossoming on his face. He was making his way to the balcony at the back, where no one ever came. He guessed his parents didn’t even know about this place. Jaskier had stumbled upon it during one of his wanderings. It was the perfect place to brood and to get lost in his thoughts. No one would hear him there.

But he didn’t get far. He got out of the room and long before he could reach the balcony, the heavy feeling came back. The heavy stone settled once again on his lungs, and Jaskier was breathless.

He opened his mouth to nothing.

_No._

He tried again.

_NO!_

Jaskier clawed at his throat but still nothing.

Anger and desperation flowed through him.

Impossible! He had waited for _so long_ and now...? What was he supposed to do, what was that supposed to mean? Was it just a taste of what his life could be with Geralt? Was this relief supposed to torment him?

It was even worse than not getting his voice back at all.

Was the universe taunting him? Was it a stroke of Destiny? Was he actually supposed to follow Geralt forever like a lost dog for the sole purpose of speaking?!

Fat tears rolled down his cheeks. His mind swirled up with too many thoughts and not enough answers. He stayed on his balcony until nightfall.


	5. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier comes to terms with how his curse works, but he hears something that might change his plans for the future.

Night came, and Jaskier decided that he was finally decent enough to go to his room. His heart was sore. He wanted to forget everything and go back to the meaningless life he had before.

Of course, things never are as simple. He tossed and turned all night. He had so many questions in his head, it was driving him crazy. He finally managed to get some sleep but just then, the early rays of the sun shined. And his parents didn’t let him sleep in. He walked like a zombie, managed to get some sleep on a bench in the garden, woke up because of a nightmare involving Geralt, his voice, and a lot of low self-esteem.

Did Destiny want him to stay with Geralt forever? Wouldn’t that be boring as hell? And, needless to say, redundant too?

Geralt would probably take another day to hunt. When he wanted to do things well, he usually took a day to collect information and another one to go hunting. It could take longer but the monster was pretty close this time, no need to wait.

Jaskier was about to go to bed and forget about all of this when he heard voices coming from around the corner. They were hushed and the persons speaking were trying to be furtive about it. It awoke Jaskier’s spying tendencies. He went closer to the voices, trying to be as quiet as possible. The voices didn’t hear him approach.

“u...what about..a? He... nev... t...plan.”

“No... y... ight.”

Jaskier could not understand what was being said. He recognized the voices somehow, but he still wasn’t able to place a name on them. His curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to spy in the conversation. He got closer silently. The voices were getting clearer.

“...understood? My son mustn’t know about this.”

Jaskier’s blood froze. _Mother?_

“You can use this witcher excuse to strengthen the security around the castle. When he will know about this, he will want to run away.”

“Understood.”

“He must not escape. My poor little king... He mustn’t get back on the road. Did you see how he was when he came back? A lost sheep, unable to fend for himself.”

“I saw, Miss Pankratz. A tramp, that’s what he was.”

“We can’t let that happen. Go now, and make sure this affair stays secret. I will take care of the contacts myself.”

Jaskier heard shuffling, and he quickly jumped at the first hiding spot he found. Heavy steps went past him and he saw the back of the figure of a guard walking away. There was no telling who it was. The man was dressed just like the rest of the guards here. When he was sure the man had left, Jaskier pocked his head out to see if his mother was still here, but she had left too.

_What to do, what to do? I can’t just tell her... do whatever she wants to do with me. If I try anything she’ll have me imprisoned. What does she want anyway?_

He went to his bedroom in a hurry and spent the next ten minutes walking in circles. He couldn’t let this happen. Whatever was planned for him, it wouldn’t be good. He never liked being caged before, which was the whole reason for his departure. It looked like his mother never changed after all. The future was not in his favour. They wanted to lock him up! And he would probably be stuck there if it was just for him. “He must not escape” his mother had said... why did his mother want him home? What had she planned for him was surely not good if she didn’t want him to know.

After some deliberation, he decided that the only thing he could do was wait for the witcher to come back and pass him a note. He needed to get out of there before security was too strong to do so, and he could use Geralt as an excuse. Maybe tell his mother than he wanted to show him around or something like that.

But... That meant that he had to prepare himself for talking to Geralt. He would probably _have_ to convince him if the witcher was the same as before: too stubborn to help without an explanation. After what has been said on the mountain, Jaskier didn’t know if he would help him or if he would just laugh at him. Guess he would have to persuade the witcher... His parents wouldn’t mind him “borrowing” money.

He could do this, he could do this... It was just a bad time to pass. Jaskier breathed deep and readied himself for the witcher’s return.

As expected, the witcher came back in the evening. He had a nasty gash in his arm. The idiot has bandaged himself but didn’t visibly feel the need to take care of it better. His father had let him stay for the night and, just as expected, Jaskier was the one to guide him to his room.

The weird feeling came back as soon as Geralt walked through the door. Jaskier spent 5 minutes trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. It was the second time in a too short-notice that the heaviness on his lungs disappeared. Jaskier was aware of the control he now had on his voice, something that he never thought he could live without. The need to sing was as strong, if not stronger than the first time. But this time, he knew what was going to happen. He knew how useless this futile hope was. Once he was out of here, he would be left alone again. Jaskier didn’t want to think about that right now, but he found it difficult _not_ to. He was _not_ looking forward to the moment when his voice would be taken from him again.

His mother hadn’t behaved differently. The only reminder of what he had heard was the sly glances she was sending him. When the meeting ended, he took the witcher through his parent’s small castle. He could feel the other’s look on him. It was like a heavy burden, after all this time, to have his old muse staring like that from behind. It sent shivers down his spine to think that the golden glaze was for him. It made Jaskier wonder if the witcher knew about his predicament or not.

When they arrived in the guest’s room, Geralt didn’t even look around. His gaze was still fixed on Jaskier, and even though the ex-bard promised himself that he would save the witcher’s life, the insistent stare was bothering him quite a lot. Without Jaskier opening up the conversation, it could take days, _years_ before the witcher decided to speak up.

Jaskier decided to hide his hurt behind his anger, and he moved to the desk to retrieve a piece of paper. The sooner this was done the better. Surprisingly, Geralt acted faster than him. Was he afraid that Jaskier would leave?

“... Jaskier!”

A strong hand grabbed his arm and stopped him. Irritated, Jaskier faced him. Geralt had this strange look on his face again. It was clear that he wanted to say something. But darn, Jaskier didn’t have time for that! He didn’t want to stay longer in this situation. He waited a few seconds for Geralt to talk, but when it seemed like the witcher was stuck like a fish out of the water, Jaskier tore his arm away and resumed his way to the desk.

“I'm...” Geralt tried again.

Jaskier was listening, but he was writing at the same time. He didn’t turn around when the witcher spoke up.

“I didn’t know you were here.”

Jaskier closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He was tired. Too tired to have this conversation. Yes, he knew it was coming. Whether the witcher was feeling remorseful or just wanted explanations, Jaskier just _couldn’t_. It was too late. He had managed to crush his hopes down, he didn’t have the time to build them up again just for a small conversation with his old friend. He didn’t have the courage dare to talk about the mountain, about his presence here, or _anything_ really. He was not brave enough to speak with Geralt.

_What a coward I am._

He turned around. Geralt was right behind him. The witcher stayed silent, as if the sentence he had said would explain everything. Seeing that the situation would probably remain for as long as the witcher wouldn’t ask anything, Jaskier decided to get answers of his own.

He pointed at Geralt’s bandaged arm. The other man understood immediately.

“I got careless. I was distracted.”

_Oh, so you don’t need me to distract you after all. Or did I distract you by my mere presence here?_

Something must have reflected in his face, because the next thing he knew, Geralt was making the face again. His hands were balled into fists and his eyes looked... apologetic?

“I didn’t know you were mute.”

If Jaskier had any resentment before, it all vanished when Geralt’s voice ended up as a whisper, as if the witcher himself was scared of saying the word that would confirm all you this.

“There is a lot I didn’t know...”

Jaskier clutched the paper in his hand. He could speak, and end this spiral of pity that the witcher was probably feeling but at the same time, he could not. If he spoke, he would have to explain everything. Geralt was too perceptive to believe in a lie, and he didn’t want Geralt to save him. That would leave him as nothing but a burden for who knows how long. _Again_. No, there was no way he would impose his presence on the witcher again. Geralt didn’t want him back as a companion, _not really_.

He had forgiven the witcher a long time ago. He was not one to stay mad for long. But what the witcher had said was a reflection of his true feelings. Jaskier knew that now. It was clear that he was useless to Geralt. He was not a fighter nor a magician. The man didn’t even like his singing – even though he wouldn’t have any problems on this part anymore-.

So he kept his mouth shut. Because this was just a fling. Geralt would go back on his feet and leave, and forget him. Because it was meant to be this way.

“What happened, Jaskier?” Geralt finally asked.

Jaskier didn’t say anything. He gave the witcher the paper he was writing. Geralt took it, opened it, and read it. A second after, his eyes were back on Jaskier. The weird look of pity was gone.

“Why do you need help?”


	6. An escapade in the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier escape the mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, sorry.

They decided to leave in the middle of the night which was, according to Jaskier, a terrible idea. But apparently, they couldn’t leave during the day.

The bard had to admit that Geralt might not have been wrong about this. If they had waited for the day to visit the city and escape, Jaskier’s parents might have sent an escort with them. Or worse, they might have refused to let him leave the mansion.

This is how they found themselves sneaking swiftly in the middle of the night. The night was quiet, except for some bit of noise here and there. Some metallic sounds and hushed fabric coming from their escapade. Guards about to pass in front of them. More guards in the distance, only heard by Geralt. A night owl. But in general, a soundless night.

With his enhanced hearing, it was not difficult to swipe past the guards. Jaskier being silent was strangely helpful too. Of course, Geralt knew about his friend’s new muteness, but it was his first time experiencing it on the field. Maybe the bard would explain what was wrong after their escape.

They had been moving efficiently until an alarm rung in the mansion. They were in the middle of the gardens. Geralt turned his head back sharply. Guards were running around called by whatever had happened inside. Jaskier looked alarmed. He shuffled closer, looking wildly around. It was not like he could see anything, so he had to rely on Geralt’s guidance. He didn’t look afraid per se, but there was a faint touch of determination to escape, wildly covered by his desire to not get caught. Geralt decided that his goal would be to take his bard to safety.

He walked back against a tree when he heard guards coming their way. With all this commotion, it was more difficult to move by ear. The guards didn’t see them, and they were able to go their way. Geralt pushed Jaskier in front of him and they kept going.

“Halt!”

Jaskier froze in front of him. One of the guards had found them.

“The Witcher! What are you doing with...Wait, are you kidnapping the Viscount’s son?!”

The guard unsheathed his sword. Geralt took out his sword too, deciding that being safe was more important than appearing innocent. Jaskier grabbed his arm with a frown.

“Don’t worry.” Grumbled Geralt. “I won’t harm him.”

_Unless he calls the other guards,_ Jaskier thought, _which he will do soon_.

But Geralt surprised him by making quick work of the guard. He warded off a blow and knocked out his enemy before he could do anything.

“Jaskier. Lead the way.”

They walked faster, escaping guards here and there. It was easier to evade them now that they were walking in small groups. The cover of the night was also greatly helping the runaway duo, especially since Jaskier knew the pattern of the area quite well.

They arrived at the stables, and Roach was there, waiting for them. As well as a small group of men that were probably ordered to guard the horse in case the witcher came for her.

“Fuck” Grumbled Geralt.

Jaskier turned to him, waiting for instructions.

“We need to change the plan.”

_I can see that_. Jaskier’s rolled his eyes. _So_ _what now?_

“You go over there. Look innocent.”

Jaskier got up and followed the plan. As soon as he appeared in the open, the guards rounded around him, asking him questions about what had happened. Jaskier answered making very vague gestures in the hope to slow them down. Geralt used the distraction to go to Roach. She was an intelligent horse, and she knew not to make a noise when her master silently prepared her for a quick break out. When Geralt jumped to ride her, a guard saw him.

“The Witcher’s there!”

Then the place became a mess. Guards ran to the witcher, leaving Jaskier defenseless behind. Geralt made Roach spring past then and grabbed Jaskier on the way. There were shouts everywhere and the witcher was a bit overwhelmed, but they were already close to the gate. Of course, the doors were closed. Geralt tried to find a last-second plan, when Jaskier nudged him, pointing in a certain direction. The guards didn’t have time to catch up with them before Geralt guided Roach away, following Jaskier’s direction. Finally, he saw the reason for their detour: there was a dip in the wall. Roach jumped easily over it, and they escaped in the night.

As the shouts became whispers in the distance, Geralt made Roach slow down. They would need her endurance later if someone caught up to them. Right now, the easiest way to shake their enemies off their trail was for them to enter the forest. And so they did. Geralt stopped Roach a few meters away from the road behind a huge rock. Moments later, a group of men on horses ran past their point and Geralt relaxed. He could not feel anyone else coming after them.

“Are you fine?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier nodded. He dusted himself and brought his hand to his head. Geralt waited patiently for Jaskier to finish getting a hold of himself. When he was ready, Jaskier turned to Geralt.

Jaskier could not see in the dark, which was why his eyes were hovering a bit over Geralt’s face. He didn’t seem to notice that he was rubbing his throat either, but Geralt decided to keep this question for later. It was not urgent. The most important thing had been to get Jaskier away from there. And that was done. Now they just needed to find a place to stay for the night, which meant probably camp outside.

But the dark of the night was helpful, and their enemies were gone, and Geralt felt like Jaskier needed a minute. He was tense and nervous, most likely worried about their escape. Geralt didn’t feel as tense, considering that he could hear their enemies coming from afar, and he knew that there was no one around.

Now that they were alone though, it was probably time for him to get hand he was pretty excited that Geralt wanted to know more but now wasn’t the time. The chase had him nervous, and it was night, and Jaskier was sure they were not far enough to be safe yet.

He whipped around to face the witcher and looked left and right with alarm. Geralt seemed to understand.

“Hum. Are you feeling better?”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. Did Geralt just ask him how he felt? After the whole fiasco at the mountain, the last thing Jaskier was expecting was for Geralt to worry about his health. For a second, he had even thought that the witcher had dropped him there to let him go before leaving himself. He was a little shook that Geralt wasn’t asking for his money right away. Or maybe Jaskier was imagining things. It had been a while since he had a normal friendship feeling. He was probably too fucked up to recognize kindness now that it was in front of him.

Not knowing what to say, Jaskier answered with a vague hand gesture.

“Then let’s go. We have to find a safe place to camp.”

Geralt invited Jaskier back on Roach, and they set off. Setting camp was a quick affair. Geralt found them a safe place and, without Jaskier chatting up the whole evening, they went to bed early.

Well, Jaskier went to bed. And after a rather long time of tossing and turning. Geralt stayed alert. He kept awake all night to make sure that no one was sneaking around their camp. He heard Jaskier move around the whole night. He was too fidgety to rest properly.

Geralt himself wasn’t totally happy with how the events had unfolded. He had hoped for answers, not running away from a mansion. Coming back from the hunt, he only wanted a peaceful evening of talk with Jaskier. He had been looking for him for a long time now, and he had been too startled to find Jaskier in the middle of trouble to ask anything. Although it seemed that Jaskier had an affinity with problems because, once more, he had found himself not only muted –by magic, Geralt could feel that thanks to his medallion- but also running away from some kind of danger. In his own house. How could someone so tiny always find himself in the biggest trouble?

Better let the bard sleep it off, and hope that the next day would bring more answers than questions.


	7. Who’s to say that witchers are senseless?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk. Like, almost for real.

At the first ray of the sun, Geralt started breakfast. He kept it simple with fruits and bread. Jaskier awoke not long after. The first thing he did was straightening his back and rubbing at his throat with a grimace. Geralt pretended not to look at the bard when his friend was so obviously gloomy.

“Good morning. Breakfast is ready.”

Jaskier sulked closer. He grabbed a piece of bread and began chewing it with no energy. He was pointedly not looking at Geralt. Following his example, Geralt took some bread and bit into it. They stood next to each other. The strange silence between them was nothing like Geralt had imagined. It was also bothering him that he hadn’t found the words to apologize for the mountain yet. He was thinking about it a lot, but he couldn't find anything worthwhile to say to Jaskier that could be worthy enough of what he had said on the mountain. He had had time to reminisce, mull it over, and to decide that Jaskier didn’t deserve what he had said to him. Jaskier was very emotional. Too emotional for this.

Jaskier would not be the one to break the silence this time, so Geralt eventually started speaking.

“I didn’t recognize you. You changed a lot.”

Jaskier stopped munching. He didn’t answer. He didn’t even lift his eyes from his bread.

“Your smell is not the same.”

At that, Jaskier frowned. He turned to face the witcher. He knew about Geralt’s enhanced smell but it was strange that the witcher himself would bring it up. As discreetly as possible with a witcher watching him, Jaskier sniffed himself. Indeed, he smelled more like royal perfume than before, but that was probably not what Geralt meant.

Geralt’s voice shifted. A clear sign that he had finished the small talk and was getting at the heart of the problem.

“Viscount Pankratz told me that you were mute.”

And Jaskier wanted to yell again, at the witcher and his father, but he decided to keep his secret for now. He owned nothing to the man. He though Geralt didn’t care about him. Was he already prepared to talk to him again? Jaskier thought their friendship was on a break. Geralt should learn when to stop. He didn’t have to deal with problems that he wasn’t supposed to solve. Jaskier had asked for help for leaving the mansion. If he had a problem with his curse, he would have asked at the same time! Or at least, he would have acted as if it was a problem. How could Geralt act like he hadn’t told Jaskier to get out of his life?

Some anger must have shown on his face because Geralt backtracked. He looked away, took a sip of water and shat up. Now it was Jaskier’s turn to feel bad. He could recognize honest intentions when he saw then. The man was trying to apologize... in his way. It was not his fault that he was bad with words. But Jaskier needed to keep himself safe. If he allowed himself to answer Geralt’s questions, he would drown in the need to be with the man again, to follow him on the roads. And now, after all the time he had had to reflect, he knew that Geralt’s burst of anger hadn’t been entirely wrong. He was useless in fights, too loud for Geralt’s enhanced hearing and he truly was... a nuisance. In general. Not worth helping.

Yet, here was Geralt. Helping him. The least he could do was answer him. Being ignored was just one of the worst feelings. So Jaskier took his notepad and wrote.

“ _That was a long time ago. Don’t you worry about that._ ”

Thankfully his witcher knew how to read because the look that he gave Jaskier was nothing like he had seen before.

“What happened?”

Through this simple sentence, Jaskier heard that Geralt was not mad at him. He heard the unsaid “I know that was not your choice”. But he wouldn’t lie to Geralt even if he needed to.

“ _Destiny told me to shut up._ ”

Geralt looked at the bard, puzzled. Jaskier didn’t want to tell him the truth, because the witcher might just decide to help him and let him stay by his sides. Jaskier didn’t want a repeat of the past 20 years again. He was tired of following a man, even if it was Geralt, just to be reminded of how pitiful he was.

“Is that why you stopped being a bard?” Geralt asked. Jaskier pinched his lips with a frown. The witcher said nothing more but he got up and went for Roach. He had a lot more stuff than Jaskier remembered.

 _So this is how it ends? Not even a goodbye?_ Jaskier focused on his bread. He didn’t want to look at Geralt’s retreating figure. It was obvious that the witcher had fulfilled his role and now, he was up and he was leaving. He had better things to do. But, surprisingly, Geralt came back. A large object was put in Jaskier’s sight.

“I... found her and I guess I wanted to... give it back.”

Jaskier couldn’t believe his eyes. His lute was there in front of him. He slowly approached his hand, as if he was trying to tame a wild animal, and touch her with his fingertips. His lute! What a grave mistake he had made selling her! Geralt released his grip only when he was sure Jaskier wouldn’t drop her out of excitement.

He closed his eyes, content in just feeling her wood under his fingers. He could feel that the wood was dehydrated as if she had stayed in her case for quite a long time now. Apparently, Geralt had had her with him for a while now.

Lowering her on his laps, he gave Geralt the most sincere smile he could. There was no need for words at a moment like that.

“Hmmm. You’re welcome.”

He sat down once more, and Jaskier busied himself with his lute until it was time to leave. Geralt told him that they were heading for the city, and Jaskier packed his lute back in her case. It is only when he helped Geralt pack everything that he noticed the witcher’s bandaged arm.

“What?” Geralt asked.

“ _Your arm isn’t better?_ ”

Shit, Jaskier had been too preoccupied with his escape and his lute to notice that Geralt was still hurt. How was that even possible? The witcher healed faster than humans, he should have been fine!

“Calm down Jaskier,” Geralt said. “I am fine. I just forgot to take the bandage off.”

Jaskier dramatically sighed. He almost took his notebook out to ask Geralt to tell him more about the hunt, but he remembered that it would just annoy his friend.

They finished packing up in a strange silence. Geralt was looking at him differently than before. They headed towards a city. Not the closest ones on the map of course, because that is just where Jaskier’s family would look first.

As soon as Jaskier felt comfortable enough walking by the witcher’s side again, Geralt started talking. It surprised him enough for Jaskier to startle.

“It was, uh, dark outside. And I could not hear it yet.”

Jaskier swiped his head to Geralt. What was he doing?

“So I followed footsteps. It was probably a Necrophage. The farmers described it as some kind of ghoul. Uh...”

_Was he... Was he explaining the hunt to him?_

Intrigued, Jaskier kept watching him. On his horse, Geralt didn’t seem as confident as the night before. Instead, Geralt was fidgeting with the reins looking everywhere _but_ at Jaskier.

“It uh... It was hiding in a mausoleum. I don’t... remember which family. Probably yours.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but smile. Finally catching on, he took his notepad out and started writing down every little detail. Geralt detailed the monster as much as he could, which was way more than what Jaskier was used to. It was strange that the witcher was the one speaking while Jaskier stayed silent, but it was nicer than what both expected. The path to the city seemed livelier after that.

They spent a few days on the road. Geralt didn’t try to broad on the subject of Jaskier’s muteness again, or his family, or the escape from his mansion... He asked nothing about him. He didn’t even try to make the conversation this time. It had Jaskier wonder if he had imagined all of that. Geralt was acting differently than before, but Jaskier couldn’t guess if it was in a good or a bad way.

He could only guess what would happen at the end of the journey. Maybe Geralt would stay with him and help, maybe he would he leave him. Jaskier wasn’t very eager to arrive.

Then again before the... curse, he never thought Geralt would abandon him. Perhaps the witcher was just trying to make up for that. There was no reason for Geralt to carry on with him after that. Jaskier dreaded the next village. He wasn’t ready to be alone again. Of course, he was with the witcher right now, and his voice was ... _oh sweet Melitle..._ his voice was back. But he couldn’t use it, and it would be gone as soon as Geralt left him. He had no plan on how to survive, and no way to make money.

Planning on the future was harder than he thought and soon, Jaskier lost his train of thought.


	8. Don't leave him behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt and Jaskier resolve some problems and a man creates some more.

They arrived at the city after a long journey without much talking –aha–. Jaskier was feeling fidgety. He was dreading the arrival, because it would mean the end of his journey with the witcher.

His voice would be stolen from him again. Even though he hadn’t used it, he had basked in the feeling that he _could_ , and that this cursed story was long done. He was too scared of Geralt hearing him to use his voice. But his throat wasn’t crushed by an invisible force anymore. Jaskier appreciated that. He hated when Geralt walked away to find food. The horrible weight would come back with each step. He had lived long enough with the curse to endure it, but he had only felt it settling in a few times and it was still the most difficult task that was ever asked of him. Geralt would come back to the camp only to find Jaskier tensed with a scrunched-up face, fingers gripping on his lute like a lifeline. He couldn’t guess what was wrong.

The city they entered was very small, and far enough from the Pankratz’s mansion to not arise attention. Geralt dismounted and headed towards the tavern, hoping Jaskier would follow him. The witcher quickly noticed that Jaskier had stopped at the entrance of the city. He was fidgeting and looking nervously at the ground. Geralt turned around.

“What’s going on?”

Jaskier began searching through his bag, and finally took out a purse. He then presented it to the witcher with a bow.

Roach sneered with affront. Geralt was too dumbstruck to even reply. Jaskier was still bowing, but as seconds passed, he looked up at Geralt. The witcher had an unreadable expression on his face. Annoyed, Jaskier straightened and shook the purse.

“Why are you handing me money?”

With an exasperated gesture, Jaskier took his notebook out and started scribbling on it.

“ _For the help_ ”.

Geralt got angry at that. His hands clutched on the notebook without meaning to.

“What?! You think you can ask me something and pay me off when you want to get rid of me? Who do you think I am, Jaskier? Why do you think I helped you?”

Geralt waited for an answer, forgetting that he was holding the only think that would help him getting one. When he remembered, he released his grip and tried to smooth out the pages as best as he could before passing it to Jaskier.

The bard was watching him with concern, but Geralt couldn’t decide which kind. His answer had been a bit brutal, but Jaskier’s stare wasn’t only fearful. Why was he looking at him like that?

The answer read: “ _You are a witcher. I am paying you for your services_.”

“Helping you is not my job, Jaskier.”

At that, Jaskier looked baffled and a little hurt. Geralt wondered what he had said wrong. He had quickly learned that this version of Jaskier had a thing for interpreting things wrong. That plus his bad habit of not being able to formulate his emotions correctly, was the worst combo. Geralt relented, for now.

“Come on. We’re going to the tavern. We are not talking about this now.”

Geralt took Jaskier to the tavern and asked for a room. They settled down slowly. They still had a good part of the day left. Jaskier was acting strange. This was obviously related to the money he had tried to give him earlier. Geralt couldn’t guess what went through his head. Jaskier had never been that recluse before. In the last days spent together, Geralt had noticed that his friend was oddly different.

The curse might have shaken him up more than Geralt thought, but it made sense. Jaskier’s voice was his work and his pride. Without it, he had been forced to go back to his family’s house to survive. It was pure luck that Geralt had found him there. Jaskier was not the same and as he was before. Geralt would probably have to speak up to rectify what was wrong.

Jaskier was seating on the bed in front of him while Geralt was leaning against the wall. He didn’t really know how to start the conversation, so he had busy himself with everything he could while trying to find a conversation opener. Now though, he was decided. He cleared his throat.

“Jaskier, why did you want to pay me?”

Jaskier frowned a bit but he took his notebook nonetheless.

“ _For doing your job._ ”

“I already told you, I am no bodyguard.”

Jaskier looked lost, as if his whole understanding of the world had changed. Geral wondered how much Jaskier had changed. His reactions were nothing like they were before. He used to be able to read him like an open book. But that was ages ago. No wonder he was so lost now.

“You know that, don’t you?” Geralt made sure.

He hoped Jaskier would understand that he had done this for Jaskier, and not for the money. Jaskier nodded. He was staring blankly at his hands, probably overthinking what Geralt was saying.

“I won’t leave you there, Jaskier.”

He heard Jaskier struggle to catch his breath and with the lack of answer, it became clear to Geralt that something was definitely wrong with his bard. And it was not only about Jaskier’s muteness. It was about their friendship. He had to go back to the basics.

There was a lot of animation in the tavern tonight. Geralt made sure that no one had followed them before taking the bard downstairs to have diner. Jaskier had been thinking a lot since their little conversation earlier. Geralt had known the bard as thunderous and eccentric, but this Jaskier was small and quiet. Not what he was used to.

Geralt’s plan was to eat and apologize for the mountain as soon as they were alone again. The Jaskier he knew would never have believed anything of what he had said on the mountain but... maybe, just maybe... this Jaskier had. That would explain the bard’s behavior. Muteness can only do so much to a man that spent his whole life being loud. Now though, even Jaskier’s actions were punctuated by a hesitancy that was surely _not_ what the witcher was used to.

They ate quickly and left, but before they could enter their room someone stopped in front of them.

He was a tall man in armor with a smile. But, as if it wasn’t suspicious enough, he had the Pankratz’s family coat of arms. Next to him, Jaskier slightly jumped. The man was looking directly at him. Geralt didn’t have his swords with him but he would not let that go. He stepped in front of Jaskier to catch the man’s attention.

“What do you want?” Geralt asked.

The man –a guard?- turned to him. He looked pretty fearless for a man meeting a witcher alone.

“You’re not as perceptive as I thought you would be.”

“So you’re really here for Jaskier?”

Geralt thought this man’s attitude was a bit too relaxed to be true. He must have brought reinforcements with him. With shame, Geralt wondered how many have gone unnoticed.

“Yes, of course. It’s my job. And what a stupid job. One day, a hobo breaks into the house, the next one you’re supposed to be his nanny.”

“If you want to keep your teeth you leave those nasty words in your mouth.”

But Jaskier was battling other demons. He took his book and started writing furiously.

“ _You’re the one that met with mother in the corridor the day before I escaped!_ ”

The guard looked suspiciously at the book, but seeing that the witcher was not attacking yet, he took it and read it. He seemed surprised that Jaskier knew that.

“Indeed, I am.”

Jaskier grabbed his book again. “ _What does she want with me?_ ”

“Later, bard.”

The untrustworthy smile was back and this time, Geralt had enough of it. He pushed Jaskier closer to their bedroom’s door without daring opening it. There were probably more man waiting right behind it. All his senses were awakened and he was on edge. If anything came his way, he was prepared.

“Enough. We are leaving.”

The guard was smart enough to let them pass without making any fast movement. Now though, Geralt had another problem. Their stuff was inside their room, and there was probably a handful of man to welcome them. He hesitated apparently too long, because the guard started talking again.

“Oh, are you expecting an ambush? Don’t worry, I came alone.”

“Yeah, that’s not suspicious.”

However, he sniffed around and found that the guard was right. No one else was in there. But that didn’t mean that the man was clear. He could be a mage, or he could have put poison in their drinks, or maybe only Jaskier’s drink... Everything was possible. Geralt didn’t lower his guard.

“I told Jaskier that I would not leave him and I meant it. Whatever you want, say it. I’m not changing my mind and I don’t have all night.”

He could hear Jaskier’s pulse accelerating. The man seemed to think it over. He smelled faintly of fear, which meant that Geralt had all the chances on his side.

“Well, as you can see, I am alone. I stand no chance against a witcher. But you, on the other hand, stand no chance against the whole Pankratz forces.”

Jaskier was trying to interfere, but it was really not the time. He pushed the man behind him again.

“Not now, bard.”

Jaskier hit his shoulder in reiteration.

“I know. Let me do the talking for once.”

The guard was smiling now, but it was much fonder than before. Less threatening. When Geralt focused his attention on him again, he moved past then. He opened the door, showing the witcher than no one was inside. Geralt relaxed, only just a bit. They were ready to talk it out.

“Let’s talk inside. I have a proposition for you.”


	9. Money means mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier comes up with a pretty awesome solution to their problem, but now he has some explaining to do.

Jaskier followed Geralt inside, even though he didn’t like the guard at all. He trusted the witcher to make the right decisions. If Geralt agreed to speak, it meant that there was no immediate danger. This guard was probably the only one in this tavern.

It was difficult to get embedded in the conversation when he had to write to be understood. Writing took a time that neither of these two had. He still wanted to participate, so he put himself on the side, at a reasonable distance between the witcher and the guard. It looked like he was ready to jump between the pair at any time. Their guest spoke first.

“Alright, first thing first. As you guessed, I am a guard hired by the Pankratz. I have a small garrison under my responsibility. My name is Amaury.”

Jaskier recognized the name and nodded. He had heard his father telling him about an Amaury at some point.

“It means that I know where Mr Pankratz is going to send his men next.”

Jaskier was starting to understand what this was really about. With the way Geralt listened carefully, it looked like the witcher had come to the same conclusion as him. Amaury spoke again.

“I came alone because I told the rest that I would go on a reconnaissance mission. I was not supposed to wear my armor tonight.”

“But you did,” Geralt explained, “so we could recognize you more easily.”

“Indeed. I needed you to take me seriously. Here is my proposition. I could send the troupes away. I could tell them that I found nothing here, and distract them long enough for you two to hit the road far away from here. ”

Jaskier mulled it over. He couldn't decide if this proposition was believable or not. Why would this man offer them such an arrangement? At his side, Geralt folded his arms and was waiting for more, just like he always did in times like this. Usually, it would be Jaskier's turn to talk. The witcher was already falling back into old habits. He was standing there, arms crossed, not breaking off his stance. It was almost like nothing had happened between the moment when Geralt had yelled at him on this mountain and now. It felt good... in a way.

Jaskier took a step in the middle of the room to catch the guard's attention. He started writing.

“ _Why would you do that? What's your aim?_ ”

Amaury did not even think twice about his answer. He looked at Jaskier and spoke like what he said was the most sensible thing anyone would say if they were him.

“Easy, for fame. If I could somehow prove my strength, I could live the rest of my days without lifting a finger...”

His eyes looked around the room and fell on the witcher.

“That nice medallion you got there.”

If it was possible, Geralt seemed to tense even more. The witcher moved as if he wanted to hurt the man, but Jaskier interrupted him before the scene would turn at their disadvantage. Amaury wasn't trying to attack them yet, maybe they could talk this out. Geralt was easily stopped by Jaskier putting a hand on his chest. The bard looked at him with firmness, and Geralt receded. Or tried to, at least. It was not in his nature to retreat when someone asked for his medallion. But Jaskier was clever, witty, and had gotten himself out of worse situations before. He would let Jaskier talk. If there was a chance for them to get out of this without a fight, it would be thanks to his friend.

“W _hat do you want it for?_ ” Jaskier wrote.

“Why, for the glory of course! It is a sign of power. With it, I can tell anything I want without people doubting my words!”

Right away, Geralt knew it was not a good plan. His medallion did not have any kind of charm, special power or anything. It was just pretty rare and known to be the sign of a witcher. Ah, well, maybe that was the problem. Did this man want to pretend to be a witcher?

“ _I can see the appeal, but I should warn you about it. This is the medallion that stole my voice._ ”

Geralt vaguely wondered what the hell the bard was playing at, but whatever it was, it was already working. The guard had wide eyes and was listening to Jaskier with interest. Geralt could already smell the faintest scent of fear raising from him.

“They said you became mute because of a sorceress.”

Jaskier was a good actor. His face always reflected the feelings he wanted to show and not the ones he was feeling. He was intelligent enough to be able to use any kind of situation to his advantage. Not a lot of people knew not to believe in his theatrics, or that Jaskier could fake interest in a subject just for the sake of the conversation. He could play off something that hurt him if it meant making the situation better. Somehow Geralt sensed that, even after all the time Jaskier had spent at home, not a lot of people got to see past his theatrics.

“ _That is what I told my parents, yes. Who would believe a medallion to be the cause of the downfall of Jaskier the bard?_ ”

“I heard all about you, bard. The stories indeed seemed to say that you were afraid of nothing. What happened?”

If stories said that Jaskier was brave, they were probably written by him. Better not say that aloud, though. Jaskier looked away and feigned stress. He was definetely a good actor.

“ _Would you still help us if I tell you?_ ”

“Yes, I just want to know. We'll find something else to settle on. Now tell me!”

Geralt realised that Jaskier had managed to save his medallion, but they were still in a dire situation. Jaskier knew the witcher would never have accepted a trade like this. But now, he was stuck with the obligation to make a credible lie without any proof. This task was near impossible. Amaury was gullible but not stupid. And he wanted proof too.

“ _A while ago, the witcher and I had an argument._ ”

Geralt remembered, and wondered were Jaskier was going. Was he trying to make him remorseful? Now that Jaskier was the center of attention, he was taking his time for writing. The guard was drinking his words. The only reason why Jaskier would take his time would be to play on the guard's stress over this whole thing. Geralt didn't know enough about humans to guess how this would work out, but it was working already, and he decided not to interrupt Jaskier's tale.

“ _You know how witchers can be, right? They are dangerous._ ”

“You can't expect me to believe that coming from you! You followed one around for a good 20 years!”

Seems like the guard was not taking it. Geralt didn't want to interrupt, but if the situation turned around, he would have to step in. But Jaskier didn't look discouraged by this. On the contrary, he used this example to relate to Amaury.

“ _Yes! Like you, I was attracted by glory._ ”

“So... Our situations are similar. Is that why you wanted to warn me?”

Jaskier nodded vividly.

“Is that how you lost your voice?”

The hurt that showed on Jaskier's face was not a pretence like the rest had been. It was a sore subject but this time it was necessary. Jaskier took a minute. He started by staring at the medallion until Amaury followed his look. Jaskier's theatrics always made Geralt want to roll his eyes, but he decided not to. He didn't want to ruin Jaskier's play.

“The medallion?”

“ _The medallion is a curse. It stole my voice._ ”

Slowly, Jaskier walked to Geralt. The witcher let him do it. Jaskier seemed genuinely afraid, as if what he said was the truth somehow. Geralt didn't know what to do so he kept as still as possible. Finally, Jaskier touched the medallion and he shivered. The bard then gulped, closed his eyes for a second, and took the time to regain control of his breathing. Then, he turned to Amaury and said:

“I am cursed to walk in silence unless I touch this medallion.”

It was like Geralt's world had switched right before his eyes. He had to stop himself from recoiling. _How was Jaskier able to talk? Wasn't he cursed?_ Jaskier was the only one calmabout this. He seemed bothered by this, yes, and it was more than just acting, but Geralt didn't know if Jaskier was playing around or not. The bard looked like he was used to this curse, but Geralt could feel the heaviness of his words. There was some truth that he didn't know.

The smell of fear increased just enough for Geralt to remember that there was someone else with them. Amaury looked absolutely appaled. At least this was working in their favour.

“I was cursed,” Jaskier said, “robbed of what was most important in my eyes unless I followed this witcher forever. To that, I said no, which is why I came back to the mansion.”

“Y... Yes, I remember... This makes sense now... why you didn't speak.”

Jaskier sighed.

“Dear Amaury, I am truly sorry that we can't give you this medallion. Perhaps we can sort this out with something else? I have money from the mansion.”

The story had completely enthralled Amaury. He was devastated. He didn't even think before accepting Jaskier's offer. When the bard took his hand off the medallion, they shared a moment full of meanings that Geralt didn't get, but it got Amaury to accept Jaskier's offer. They counted the money and settled down on the agreements. Geralt and Jaskier would have two days before the Pankratz' forces came searching this place. Amaury packed quickly, ready to leave, but before he could do so, Jaskier grabbed him and shyly showed him something written.

Amaury looked at it and turned back to Jaskier with an apologetic look on his face.

“I can't do that.” The man said after a moment. “I would be wanted by sight.”

Jaskier looked devastated. So much, that Amaury took his shoulder and tried to reassure him.

“If it makes you feel better, they didn't want you dead. Madame just wanted lineage. She said it was time to marry her son.”

That seemed to lift Jaskier's spirit enough for Amaury. He said his goodbyes, bid them farewell and left quickly.


	10. Answers for both of them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our two boys have grown up. They can talk about their feelings.

The room was silent since the guard had left.

Geralt fixed the door without daring to look at Jaskier. He had a lot of questions for him. The trick the bard has played earlier was certainly bothering him. He hadn't felt any magic coming from his medallion. The bard had lied, that much was clear. How he had managed to regain his voice long enough to speak to Amaury was something else.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wonder for long, because Jaskier sighed and, in the most depressing voice he could find, said:

“I guess you have some questions.”

Geralt didn't know he could be taken aback again in the same evening, but he was. He knew that the medallion part had been a lie, of course. That didn't explain how Jaskier had been able to speak. Had Jaskier faked muteness all along?

“They said you were mute.”

Geralt did not bother to say who _they_ were because in this case, _they_ meant everyone. Jaskier frowned as if that was not the questions he had been expecting.

“Well, I’m obviously not. I’m cursed Geralt, not mute. You should feel that with all your witchery senses.”

There was a lot that didn't make sense. Geralt hadn't felt anything magical around Jaskier, which is why he had so strongly believed the rumors about the bard's muteness. Knowing how the bard couldn't keep quiet, they most likely made sense too. Learning that they turned out to be false was opening his mind to a whole new world of possibilities, none of them pleasant.

“What is this curse about?”

“Ah, actually... What I said was true. I was cursed to follow you until the end of my days apparently. I believe the correct words were ' _Follow the witcher, that you must; At the expanse of your own voice'”._

“Then why didn't you come back?”

Jaskier turned silent, and a vague reminder of how he had seen the bard at the mansion crossed Geralt's mind. It left as quickly as it came.

“I wasn't sure if you wanted me around.” Jaskier didn't elaborate. He grabbed his lute and started strumming mindlessly.

He smelled of fear. Jaskier was not often in such low spirits. Geralt could count on one hand the number of times he had smelled fear on Jaskier, and never was it aimed at him, probably never would be. Geralt wasn't having it. He had walked alone and had learned how important of a companion Jaskier was, it was time to make the bard understand it too.

“Jaskier, I told you I wouldn't leave you there. It still holds.”

He had caught the bard's attention now. The fingers had stopped dancing on the lute. Geralt hated repeating himself on things that weren't important.

“I'm sorry for what I said on the mountain. I like your company.”

“I'm sorry for my behavior too, and I don't hold you to your words,” Jaskier answered. “If I was less annoying, more people would want me around. And not only for lineage.”

Geralt could see a small smile on Jaskier's lips now. He wanted to reply something, but suddenly remembered Jaskier's written request and the guard 's apologetic look.

“What did you ask for, exactly?”

“Oh, that's a silly thing. Not much to talk about. I just... hum...”

Jaskier fumbled around and suddenly decided than it was better to just shove his notebook into Geralt's face than answer his question. It read “ _How much to tell them I am dead?_ ”. Geralt was shaken. Had Jaskier thought about the consequences? A lie like that meant that Jaskier never planned on going back to the mansion again. With the bard's curse, there was no way he would be able to provide for himself. Did Jaskier really have no plans when he had asked him for help escaping?

“So you were set on never going back.”

“Yes.”

“Hmmm.” Geralt mused. “Where were you planning to go?”

“Oh just here and there. I have a lot of good relations, you know. They can get me a job if I ask nicely.”

Considering that Geralt had found Jaskier's lute in someone else's hands, he didn't believe the bard one bit.

“Jaskier...” Geralt said in a low, scolding voice.

“What! I don't know!” Jaskier yelled. He pulled up a face. “I just couldn't stay with people that were lying to me, and I couldn't ask you, because your point of view about me following you around was perfectly clear at the time.”

He let a second pass, and his hands went to grab something solid. He found comfort in his lute again.

“Thank you for finding my lute Geralt. It means a lot to me. I'm sorry for being so loud all the time, I'm working on that.”

“I... I'm sorry too,” Geralt apologised, “for what I said after the dragon hunt. I was angry and you were there.

Jaskier smiled widely. He approached Geralt as if he wanted a hug, but decided on just grabbing his arm. Geralt rolled his eyes and hugged Jaskier. The bard sank in the hug instantly. It was better than what Geralt remembered, and for Jaskier, it healed him much more than all the reasoning he had convinced himself of. They broke the hug at the same time.

“Who cursed you?” Geralt asked.

“Not someone you can beat up. It's Destiny.”

“I don't care if it's f*cking destiny or not, you're not staying like this. Who is it?”

“No, I... It was really Destiny, the goddess Destiny. She talked to me and she cursed me. I am to be your eternal _pet_ until I die apparently.”

Geralt let the words sink in. Somehow, Jaskier had managed to anger a goddess. How much trouble could the bard get in when he was not there to supervise him? He remembered Jaskier's words to the guard about having to follow the witcher to be able to speak. That much had not been part of the act, apparently.

“Do you not want to?”

“I'd love to, my dear witcher, but I understand that you must need quiet and reflection in your work. I can't even defend myself. I'm really glad that you want me around, but this is a choice that you should do because of my curse.”

“It should!” Geralt answered immediately. “Your voice is important, Jaskier. It's your work and your passion.”

The bard paused. He was suddenly realising that maybe Geralt was really concerned about him. It was not a choc per se, because Jaskier knew in his heart that, despite everything, Geralt was a good friend. But the understanding that yes, they were friends, and yes, Geralt was caring, had him smile broadly. He was not feeling forced anymore.

“Anyway, you said that you wanted me around, right? So it's not like this is important. You'd have to me bear with me for quite a long time I'm afraid.”

“Of course.”

“So where are we heading next?”

“Hmmm. North.”

And, as easy as that, they fell back into old habits.

They were so comfortable that they never noticed how Jaskier kept talking and singing without Geralt there, in a small town ahead that needed a witcher's help.

And none of them saw the feminine figure that was watching them from afar, hid by the moonlight, mysterious as always. She was smiling at a job well done. Destiny was looking after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ;) I always have a hard time writing whump/feels but I think I nailed it this time.  
> I have another idea for a Witcher fic but I'm not sure if I'm going to write it. I just don't have enough time for it. I'll try tho, 'cause it will be shorter than this one.


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